


1 New Message

by priestlys



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Accidental Sexting, F/F, Love Confessions, Older Woman/Younger Woman, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priestlys/pseuds/priestlys
Summary: Miranda: Do you know why I called you in here?Andy: Because I accidentally sent you a nude?Miranda: [pouring wine into two glasses]Miranda: Accidentally?(The prompt is funny, the fic is not. Just a head’s up.)





	1 New Message

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AFey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFey/gifts).



> Prompt is from incorrectdwpquotes on tumblr, suggested by AFey. 
> 
> This is the first thing I’ve written in years, constructive criticism not only welcome but encouraged. It was a fun little prompt, and while the fic is certainly nothing profound, I hope it’s at least a fun read. 
> 
> Thanks to CrazyBeCat, jackisdoctortom, and the aforementioned AFey for their help and suggestions. This is a one shot fic. I will not be writing additionally chapters save extenuating circumstances.

A loud ding signifying a new text message broke Miranda’s concentration. She dropped her red pen on the book and reached towards the side table to grab her phone, annoyed that anyone would think it appropriate to contact her at such an hour. The night had passed into the early hours of Saturday morning, nearly 1 a.m. She worried for a moment that something had happened to the girls before remembering they were asleep in their bedrooms upstairs. So, not an emergency then.

Miranda rolled her neck a few times in a vain attempt to diffuse some tension as she entered the passcode for her iPhone and tapped the icon to open her messages. _Andrea Sachs. Interesting_ , Miranda mused, opening the text. Her eyes widened in surprise at the thumbnail, and she emitted a barely audible, “Oh.”

Miranda tapped to expand the full photo, revealing her second assistant wearing a bright smile and not much else. Andrea’s left arm was extended forward, clearly taking the selfie, while her right arm enveloped her chest, covering her nipples. Sheer, black boy shorts - Agent Provocateur, no less - sat low on her hips, and Miranda could just make out the shape of neatly trimmed hair beneath the material. Her heartbeat sped up and she involuntarily shivered. Then, almost automatically and obviously still somewhat in work mode, she began to survey the picture with a more critical eye. It was obviously an amateur photo, taken with a smartphone camera. The angle was a little awkward and the lighting left much to be desired, but the subject matter counter balanced the imperfections.

The photo was sent without preamble or a caption. Miranda stared at her phone for a couple of minutes, waiting for the follow up text containing an explanation that Andrea would surely send. Three minutes passed, then five, and Miranda gave up. She tried to resume her work but found her attention span was shot. Exasperated, she slammed the cover of the book and set it aside, placing her reading glasses on top of it. She snatched up her phone, clicked off the lamp, and began her journey up the stairs.

By the time Miranda finished getting ready for bed, her phone screen was still blank but for the time. 1:45 a.m. She slipped under the covers and closed her eyes, already sure that sleep would elude her for a long while yet.

~~~~~

Saturday passed with no further communication from Andrea, and Miranda went out of her way to only call Emily when she required assistance. Sunday was the same, and by the time Monday morning rolled around, Miranda was equal parts annoyed and intrigued. She planned to confront Andrea first thing, knowing she would struggle to concentrate on much else until she had secured an explanation for the late night text.

As always, Andrea was waiting for Miranda, notepad in hand, when she exited the elevator. However, in place of the kind smile and compulsory “good morning,” Andrea refused to look Miranda in the eye and simply chewed on her lip as she awaited instruction. Miranda managed to focus enough to rattle off instructions for three or four filler tasks, just to avoid silence, before they reached her outer office. She flung her purse onto Emily’s desk, and Andrea stepped behind Miranda to wordlessly remove her coat. Well, that was new. Andrea hung the coat in the closet and turned back around just in time to see Miranda glance at her pointedly and jerk her head towards her office.

“Shut the door,” Miranda commanded as Andrea entered. “And sit down.”

Every visible part of Andrea blushed pink with embarrassment as she followed the command, still avoiding eye contact.

“I presume you’ve had adequate time to form an adequate explanation,” Miranda said flatly, affecting boredom.

Andrea cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Yes, Miranda.” A long moment of silence passed between them.

“Well?”

Andrea gulped, and looked like she might cry. “I’m sorry, Miranda,” her voice cracked. “Please don’t fire me. It, it was an accident. And I’m really, really sorry.”

Miranda was taken aback by the level of emotion behind the response, but did not let on. “That’s not an explanation, Andrea.” Miranda attempted to sound stern, but the sentence came out softer than she’d intended. “Just tell me what happened.”

“It’s… complicated,” Andrea began. “Really complicated.”

Miranda could tell the younger woman was stalling and her jaw clenched with impatience. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Fine,” Andrea sighed. “You’re probably going to fire me anyway, so what the hell.” Her large brown eyes finally met Miranda’s, and she began to speak in a nervous ramble.

“Friday night, I was home alone. I had some wine. Not enough to be, like, actually drunk, but, enough. My friend Lily made me join this stupid dating site recently, because she said she was sick of watching me mope around.” Andrea paused to take a deep breath before continuing. “I’d exchanged phone numbers with a woman I matched with on the site. We were texting, and she asked me to send her a picture. Against my better judgment - again, wine and all - I agreed. So I took the photo and sent it off, and then I realized… I’d sent it to the wrong Miranda.”

“What do you mean, the ‘wrong’ Miranda?”

“Well, that brings us to the part that’ll get me fired. Can we please just leave it?” Andrea asked desperately. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“Try me.”

“Okay.” Andrea’s shoulders sank in defeat. “Fine. Nate, my ex, broke up with me just before Paris. I told him you’d asked me to go instead of Emily, and we were arguing. He told me I’d sold my soul to the devil, that I’d changed and he didn’t recognize me anymore. In the middle of the argument, my phone rang.”

Andrea’s voice shrank. Her lip wobbled in an apparent effort to hold back the tears Miranda could see forming in her eyes.

“Go on,” Miranda prodded, her own voice barely a whisper.

“It - it was you,” Andrea gulped down a sob. “It was you, and I told him I needed to answer. He was disgusted. Called me ‘unbelievable.’ And then he said something that really fucked me up.”

Miranda raised her eyebrow at the expletive but pressed on, “Which was?”

Andrea sighed and closed her eyes. “He - he said, ‘the person whose calls you always take, that’s the relationship you’re in.’ I answered the phone, and he walked away.”

Miranda had an idea of where this was leading, but wanted to be sure. “Okay. And that leads us to this weekend, how?”

“Because I’m pathetic,” Andrea breathed, opening her eyes. “Because the only reason I even messaged the woman on the site was that her name was Miranda, and I knew she was the only Miranda I would ever have a chance with.”

“Oh,” Miranda said.

Andrea flinched as though she’d been struck, but continued, “Nate, Lily, all my friends - they all recognized what was happening long before I did. But that night, I realized that, to an extent, he was right. You and I weren’t in a relationship, by any means, but... I wished we were.”

“And now?” Miranda asked, struggling to maintain eye contact with the other woman.

“And now what?” Andrea laughed humorlessly. “You’re my boss. You’re straight. You’re - you’re Miranda Priestly, for chrissakes. You’re so far out of my league that you might as well be in another galaxy.”

Miranda did not reply, but watched tears now stream freely down Andrea’s cheeks. The silence probably didn’t last even a minute, but felt like it stretched on for hours.

“Where do you want to work?” Miranda asked finally.

“I knew it.” Andrea shook her head with a sigh. “I knew you’d freak out.”

“I’d hardly think asking a simple question constitutes freaking out.” Miranda rolled her eyes. “Now, I’ll ask again. Where do you wish to work?”

“Honestly? Here.”

“Pick another publication, Andrea. You’ve completed your tenure as my assistant, and I refuse to so much as think about any sort of…” Miranda trailed off, lifting a finger to her lip as she contemplated her word choice. Andrea opened her mouth to speak, but Miranda continued before she had the chance. “Non-professional relationship until you are no longer under my employ.”

Andrea’s eyes widened and she froze. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Miranda replied with a smirk.

“You don’t mean…” Andrea began, brow crinkling in suspicion.

“You can interpret my words however you’d like. But by the end of the day, I expect you to supply me with the name of a non-Elias-Clark publication so I may send them a letter of recommendation. Have Emily contact HR. Tell her I want your replacement to begin training by tomorrow. I don’t care if she’s here interviewing them until midnight.”

“Yes, Miranda.” Andrea stood up and moved towards the door.

“You will deliver the book tonight, which will signify the end of your employment at Runway.”

“Yes, Miranda.” Andrea turned back to face Miranda, blushing as the full levity of the statement hit her.

“And Andrea?” Miranda began, lips curling into a predatory smile. “Wear the Provocateur.”

Andrea gulped, nodding mutely, and headed back to the outer office.

Miranda continued smiling, eyes locked on Andrea’s retreating form. _So much for concentration_ , Miranda thought, shaking her head. It was going to be a very, very long day.

 

 


End file.
